I opened the side zipper pocket and took out my grandmother’s heirloom teddy bear.

The bear was missing its left glass eye and had blue felt patches stitched over both elbows, but its fur was clean and soft.

I stood the bear upright on the nightstand right next to the brass reading lamp.

Monica appeared in the bedroom doorway holding a clean glass of tap water.

She took off her rimless glasses and wiped them on the hem of her wool cardigan before looking at my face.

“Your father called my landline twice while your plane was in the air,” she said.